Don’t fret; this isn’t going to be one of those letters you’ve grown accustomed to. You know the type. A well-meaning adult pens a note with a condescending tone, suggesting you change this or that—often about your fashion choices, selfie habits, or how you flirt. Honestly, I’m just as weary of those “letters” as you are.
You may not recall me, but we crossed paths at the local pool last week. I use “crossed paths” loosely since I never caught your names, and you didn’t know mine. I had climbed up to the high dive after making a deal with my son. “You jump off the high dive, Mom, and I’ll do my epic cannonball,” he said. I thought, “What’s the big deal?”
However, as I climbed the steps and peered over the edge, I quickly understood the magnitude of the situation. The high dive is HIGH! Panic set in, but I still joined the line behind you.
The last time I leaped from a high dive, I was just a few years older than you at 18, but oh how much changes in two decades! The board seemed to stretch endlessly higher; the plunge felt more daunting. Suddenly, the risks of a swimsuit mishap, water up my nose, and an embarrassing belly flop loomed larger.
One of you remarked, “It always takes me a few tries before I actually jump.” Then you ventured to the end of the board, hesitated, and walked back. You repeated this process a couple of times until, just as predicted, you finally jumped. Moments later, you were back in line, giggling with your friend.
A few younger kids, around 8 or 9, took their turns jumping off the board as you patiently waited. They shared how exhilarating it was and reassured me that it didn’t hurt. You two cheered each other on, encouraging one another with every jump.
Eventually, it was my turn again. I stepped onto the board, hesitated, and stepped off, retreating to the end of the line. For 20 long minutes, I stood on the platform, watching you and the other kids leap into the unknown. I attempted to gather the courage to jump, reminding myself that I can tackle tough challenges. I reflected on the wisdom I’ve shared about confronting fears and demonstrating bravery to my children.
I tried to jump no fewer than five times, each time met with your supportive encouragement. You waited patiently as I edged halfway down the board, hesitated, then backed off. “It’s OK,” one of you said. “I get scared too. But once you jump, it’s kind of fun.” “Just don’t look down,” your friend advised. “Focus on the trees instead.” “It’s like flying,” one of you said, leading us into a light-hearted discussion about the song playing, Free Fallin’ by Tom Petty.
I stepped back onto the board. I walked halfway, then took another step. Following your advice, I gazed at the trees but eventually glanced down. I turned back, stepping off the board again.
“Aw!” the younger kids groaned. “Not today, kids,” I replied, “I’m sorry. Maybe next time.” But then one of you met my gaze and firmly said, “You’ll regret it if you leave today without jumping. You will regret it.”
“I know,” I whispered. “You’re right.” Moments later, when it was my turn again, I walked to the end of the board, focused on the trees, and jumped. I heard cheers before I hit the water.
“Good job!” you called out from the platform. “Thank you!” I shouted back, filled with gratitude.
A little later, as you strolled past, I called out, “Thank you, girls!” But you were lost in laughter, oblivious to my gratitude. I searched for you among the crowd but soon got distracted by my kids asking for snacks. Before I knew it, it was time to go, and I never saw you again.
As I made my way to the snack counter, my friend teased, “I expect you to write about jumping off the high dive soon.” That got me thinking about all the lessons I could share. While I could focus on facing fears or the importance of teaching our kids to embrace bravery, what truly resonated with me was the impact of those two remarkable teenage girls.
There’s much discussion about teens today, especially young girls. We hear complaints about the over-sexualization of girls by brands pushing padded bras and short shorts. There are debates about whether your clothing choices are empowering or scandalous. We see viral posts shaming middle schoolers for, gasp, flirting at the pool. And the inevitable eye-rolls over your selfie obsession and social media presence.
As parents, we strive to instill strength, confidence, and self-worth in you. We tell you to be kind and courageous, to respect yourselves and demand respect in return. We hope you grow into kind, confident adults. But what we often overlook is the profound lessons you impart to us.
You remind us what it means to be brave, to take risks, and to jump into life without looking down. You teach us that it’s OK to stumble and that second chances and forgiveness are vital. You embody patience, resilience, gentleness, and strength. You inspire us to jump.
We may think we’re guiding you through life, sharing our wisdom earned from experience. Yet, we forget that we’re all on this journey together, learning from each other. So keep leaping into the deep end, keep embracing life. Because as you grow, we, too, are growing alongside you.
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In summary, this piece reflects on the courageous spirit of two teenage girls at a swimming pool, who unknowingly inspire an adult to confront her fears. Through their encouragement and camaraderie, they demonstrate that both youth and experience have valuable lessons to share.